Somewhere in between 2am and 4am on Saturday morning, I crawled out of a deep slumber and zombie-walked to the fridge for a snack to satisfy my unending thirst thanks to the Dawn Phenomenon. I remember getting a freezer pop, chopping the top off with a butcher knife of all things, and taking a few bites out of it as I dragged my feet back to bed. The next thing I remember is waking up at 6:15am to the sound of my alarm. As I came to, I realized something very... odd/creepy/scary/crazy. My left arm was straight up in the air. In my left hand I tightly grasped the half-eaten freezer pop from a few hours ago. I immediately took a picture of the scene just for proof. And in case you were wondering, no, I did not spill a single drop.

I'm not sure what this is all about, but I'm also not going to try and find out. All I know is I don't get a whole lot of sleep, and the last thing I want to do is setup a camera in my bedroom only to find out that I pace around my room or god knows what when I'm unconscious.

Part II: Insanity

A dozen or so hours after the freezer pop incident, I found myself in the middle of what will most likely be the greatest sports viewing experience of my life. Outside of the final score of the game, the entire experience was something to the tune of "Cow Sees Double Rainbows at Michigan Stadium." If the day would have ended in a W, the ultimate day would have been accomplished. But, I'll take what I can get. The 3.5 hour drive home from Ann Arbor gave me a lot of things to ponder, particularly that of how to deal with the shit-talkers that would come out of the woodwork to inform me that Michigan had lost a game. No shit, Sherlock. I saw it with my own eyes. Hundreds of feet in the air. From a luxury box. On the 50-yard line. I'm sure the view from your b&w 10'' busted up TV was tremendous, but thanks for the reminder. And I think that's really when it hit me. It's pointless to argue with people that don't root for the Maize & Blue. For the past five weeks, I ran around wherever I was and ran my mouth. Nobody probably cared. And if they did, they didn't have anything to combat my encyclopedia of football knowledge. Or they were just retarded. Either way, there is now nothing I can say that will be any sort of imaginable "win" in my world of shit-talking. There wasn't at 5-0, Heisman hype, Michigan is back, bla bla bla, and there certainly isn't at 5-1. Especially with OSU now at #1.

Insanity: doing the same thing over and over again and expecting different results.

Albert Einstein

Well said, Al. So then, what is the point? Arguing with the shit-talkers is like the game "Angry Birds." If you don't blow up all the green pigs on a level with your birds, the green pig will smile at you. It's a shit eating grin that drives me up a wall. I can't do anything but wait for the next round to try to get that little pig-fucker that was just smiling at me. And so it goes. The next round comes on six more Saturdays. The final round is all that really counts though. And when that round is over, if there are no smiling green pigs looking at me, everyone better take the year off of work, delete Facebook accounts, block my phone number, and generally just avoid me.